


Nape

by diemarysues



Series: A King and her Burglar [13]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Angst, Cultural Differences, F/F, FemBagginshield Week 2013, Female Bilbo, Female Thorin, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2013-05-29
Packaged: 2017-12-13 08:27:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/822155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diemarysues/pseuds/diemarysues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt fill:<br/>Bilbo has long, unruly, curly hair and it's constantly getting in the way... she resolves to cut her hair, and chops most of it off during the night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nape

**Author's Note:**

> Full prompt:  
> Bilbo has long, unruly, curly hair and it's constantly getting in the way. When she saved Thorin from Azog, she almost didn't get rescued by the eagles because an orc started pulling her back by the hair. When they reach the Carrock Bilbo resolves to cut her hair, and chops most of it off during the night. In the morning, Thorin is shocked to see most of Bilbo's hair gone, and laments the fact that she won't be able to give Bilbo traditional courting braids as she had been intending.
> 
> Intended as an AU within an AU of the King and Her Burglar 'verse.

Of all things to anticipate the morning after escaping from Goblins and Orcs on the backs (and in the claws) of Eagles, it surely wasn’t a handful of pins being tipped into her palm. Well, for Bilbo it was more two handfuls, but the point still stood.

 

“What is –?” Thorin had had a proper question planned, but it died on her tongue when she finally looked up. Oh. That’s why Bilbo didn’t need the pins anymore.

 

Oh.

 

Bilbo shyly rubbed the back of her neck. “It’s easier,” she said by way of explanation.

 

Maybe she thought that that was all the explanation Thorin deserved. Thorin supposed that would be fair.

 

“There might be a few that’ve been lost… I’m sorry about that.” She chafed the top of one foot along the calf of the other leg. “I’ll, I’ll get you new ones, I promise. If – once we reach Erebor.”

 

“It’s fine.”

 

“Oh, but –”

 

“Pray don’t mention it.”

 

Bilbo nodded, then smiled suddenly. “Look at it this way; you don’t have to waste time on me anymore.”

 

Thorin immediately dropped her gaze to the hairpins in hand. Her eyes went to the one with the large cut garnet; she was swamped simultaneously by the conflicting feelings of relief and anger that it hadn’t been lost. By the time she’d convinced herself to look back up and tell Bilbo that time spent with her was in no way wasted, the burglar had made her way across camp.

 

Her short curls ruffled in the wind.

 

* * *

 

Suddenly having a significantly decreased amount of hair was disorientating. She kept expecting her head to be heavier than it was, and kept lifting her hand to push away curls that weren’t there.

 

It had been a hard decision to make, but Bilbo knew it had to be done. Between her hair and her life, she’d choose the latter every time.

 

Well, there’d hardly be another time if she chose her hair, would there?

 

She hadn’t expected the Orc to grab hold of her hair, just like she hadn’t expected her hair to come loose in the first place. The Eagle had grabbed her nonetheless – and the pain of supporting a fully grown Orc by one’s hair was _excruciating_.

 

Still, at least the Eagle dropping her had had the dual advantage of lessening the taut pressure on her hair, as well as causing the Orc to let go in fear and surprise. Bilbo had had a strong and feathered back on which to land. The Orc had not.

 

Thorin had been too sore to re-braid Bilbo’s hair last night – or so Bilbo imagined. It couldn’t have been terribly comfortable to be bashed around by a mace and chewed on by a Warg. So Bilbo had sat and attempted to disentangle the pins from her curls as she contemplated lopping all her hair off.

 

It’d certainly make washing it easier. And it _would_ grow back, provided she didn’t get fried to a crisp at the end of their quest.

 

As if they’d read her mind, Fíli and Kíli came to her after their supper, speaking about Dwarvish hair customs. It’d made her a little sad to think about them as she’d crept towards the on-watch Bifur to beg for a knife; while the braids were no longer in her hair, she could remember which Thorin had put in, and now she knew the meanings behind them.

 

Well. Thorin would understand. Of course she would.

 

Luckily for Bilbo, Bifur had figured out what she wanted and why. They negotiated a length – above her collar would be alright, wouldn’t it? – and then he set to work, likely doing a better job of it than if she’d done it herself and without a mirror.

 

He had no reaction whenever he extricated and handed over a heretofore hidden hairpin. Bilbo was grateful.

 

* * *

 

Thorin refused to look back.

 

This wasn’t some wishy-washy, philosophical way of life – the King was literally and deliberately keeping her gaze forward. She was not leading the Company today. Dwalin was one point (which was annoying her since she was therefore unable to speak with him) while Dori walked between him and Thorin (which annoyed her because it implied she needed help clearing the path. The fact that she sort of did need help was to be ignored).

 

No, Thorin kept her eyes in front so they wouldn’t alight on a certain Hobbit who had chopped off all her hair.

 

Bilbo couldn’t have rejected Thorin’s suit more spectacularly if she’d actually tried.

 

Maybe… maybe this could’ve been avoided if Thorin had only been upfront about her feelings. Perhaps Hobbits had different protocols and practices when it came to courting, and they could’ve made do until Thorin had proper offerings.

 

Or perhaps Bilbo would have just rebuffed Thorin then and there. It wouldn’t have been surprising, considering Thorin’s poor treatment of her.

 

Even past the rushing in her ears after Bilbo had returned the hairpins, Thorin had managed to hear the (horrified) exclamations of the Company as they’d noted their burglar’s new hairstyle. And she’d been very much able to see them turn towards their King with looks of horror and pity and understanding.

 

Thorin didn’t want another look at those expressions, either.

 

Despite the fact that they had to cut their travel speed and were forced to increase their rest time in deference to Thorin’s injuries (as well as those of the others), at least Thorin had an excuse to sit against the trunk of a well-shaded tree and close her eyes. Ideally she’d also be able to doze dreamlessly, but for now Thorin was content to enjoy her self-imposed solitude.

 

Alas.

 

“Thorin, are you asleep?”

 

She didn’t move. She’d heard the clank of a sword against the tree roots as Bilbo presumably sat herself down. Joy.

 

“That is a stupid question.”

 

“You answered it all the same.”

 

Thorin hummed noncommittally. This was a better way of conversing. She could pretend that Bilbo was still crowned with golden braids. She could pretend that she’d not ruined everything.

 

After a short silence, Thorin felt Bilbo shift.

 

“Why are your eyes closed?”

 

“I’m resting them.”

 

“Aren’t you going to look at me?”

 

“Is there something on your face that bothers you? Surely there is someone more suited to this task –”

 

“Thorin. Look at me.”

 

She swallowed, and uncurled her fingers from the unconscious fist they’d formed. “You saved my life, Bilbo Baggins. While I am grateful for this and am in your debt, that does not mean that I will take your orders.”

 

“It’s not an _order_ , you –”

 

“I would consider the end of that sentence very carefully, were I you.”

 

“And were I _you_ , I’d do someone the basic courtesy of meeting their eye when being spoken to!”

 

Irritated, Thorin did as asked. She glared at Bilbo, making sure that her gaze didn’t wander past equally glaring hazel eyes, or past that blunt nose, or past plush lips gone stiff with anger.

 

“I am, as ever, at your service, Mistress Baggins.”

 

Bilbo frowned. “Except if that were really the case, we’d not be arguing.”

 

The Dwarf looked away. None of the Company was in sight; had she really wandered away that far? She regretted it now; her quest for seclusion had rather backfired.

 

“Thorin. Bofur told me about what cutting hair means amongst your people.”

 

Of course he had.

 

“And Fíli and Kíli talked about braid significance.”

 

…why had she promised Dís to return her children alive?

 

“I _know_ , Thorin.”

 

“Fine.” It was fine. Or it would be if Bilbo left her to her own devices.

 

“Are you just going to ignore it?”

 

Yes. “Is there a reason to discuss it? I think you’ve made your stance on the matter quite clear.”

 

“But I haven’t! Thorin, just listen to me –”

 

“I _am_ listening.”

 

Bilbo made a frustrated noise. Good. If Thorin managed to chase her away without verbal abuse or threats of physical violence, then they could all move on from this travesty all the quicker.

 

“Just. Just be quiet. I knew about the meanings of the braids, but when I cut my hair off I was unaware of the significance of that action. Thorin I didn’t mean to say that I’d rather die than accept you as my suitor.”

 

“Well, that is comforting.”

 

“It is?”

 

“Sure.” If it was blind comfort she wanted, Thorin would give it.

 

Annoyingly, Bilbo did not seem much reassured. As far as Thorin could make out without looking at the Hobbit – and she was _not_ going to look –, Bilbo was instead growing more agitated.

 

“Please look at me, Thorin.”

 

“No.”

 

“Thorin –”

 

Her reflexes saved her. It was funny to think that ‘saving’ meant ‘she closed her eyes in time to prevent catching sight of Bilbo’ rather than ‘she managed to narrowly escape being killed by virtue of her own skill’, but Thorin did have more experience with matters of warfare rather than that of her heart.

 

“Oh, you _stubborn_ –” Bilbo’s hands left her face, and wasn’t that a breath of relief? Only, they closed over Thorin’s own, forcing them up, up into too short hair, only there was something else beyond the texture of soft curls, those felt like braids –

 

 _What_?

 

* * *

 

“You could have said it outright,” Thorin grumbled.

 

Bilbo puffed out an impatient breath. “And you would have listened? You didn’t when I asked you to obey a simple request.”

 

“You have to understand my view of it.”

 

Bilbo settled herself more securely in Thorin’s lap, making sure not to put any pressure on the Dwarf’s wounds. She framed Thorin’s face in her hands. “I can be… convinced further.”

 

Obligingly, Thorin slid her lovely hands further up Bilbo’s skirt. Of all days to choose to forgo her breeches, this was a brilliant one. Sunlight filtered in through breaks in the leaves of the tree they were under, making Thorin’s blue eyes sparkle. Bilbo let her head hang backwards; if she’d still had her full length of hair, it would be tumbling down her back. As it was, it was clear that her exposed neck was the focus of Thorin’s attention.

 

“You must promise,” she said, shifting further and thrilling in the hitched breath she got, “that we talk tonight.”

 

“While I would usually bow to your wisdom, burglar –” Thorin magnanimously ignored Bilbo’s snort “– there were other things I would look forward to tonight.”

 

Strong fingers slid another delicious inch upwards, though, and Bilbo’s lips quivered. “Who said we had to wait for tonight?”

 

They were just leaning towards each other when a branch crunched underfoot. Nori smirked at them, and held his hands up in a placating gesture before anyone could get a word in.

 

“Ten minutes?” he asked.

 

Bilbo would have railed at him – but only gasped when Thorin squeezed her thighs mercilessly. She frowned at the King, who had nothing but innocence in her face. Or attempted innocence, anyway.

 

“Give it half an hour,” said Thorin, and –

 

Bilbo wouldn’t complain.

**Author's Note:**

> edit: I missed out including that Bilbo kept the five-strand braids in front of her ears, just tied around her head and hidden in her curls. Those particular braids indicate that she's spoken for by a Dwarf of royalty.
> 
> Not _entirely_ prompt compliant, but I wanted to mangle it into my femslash 'verse anyway. For those unaware, this takes place within **Jewels in Her Hair** of the 'King and Her Burglar' series - the same series this fic belongs to.
> 
> See that FemBagginshield Week 2013 week tag up there? [Want to know more](http://fembagginshield.tumblr.com)?


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